


The Taste Of Honey

by Arlessiar



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Caring, Domestic, Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Tea, Love, M/M, Medical, Medical Procedures, Original Character(s), Sick Harry, Sickfic, Tea, Vomiting, kingsman secret santa 2017, merlahad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-26 08:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlessiar/pseuds/Arlessiar
Summary: What Merlin thinks of as Harry simply having a bad day quickly turns into a nightmare of pain, guilt and uncertainty and a throwback to memories that both of them had problems to cope with.





	The Taste Of Honey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reindeerjumper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/gifts).



> This was supposed to become a standard-length story about a popular h/c trope in the Kingsman fandom. It seems though that I can't really do 'short' when it comes to h/c...  
> So this fic grew and grew somehow despite having a rather simple plot, but once I started I couldn't stop anymore. So here it is now, 10K about pain, guilt, love and care. I hope you enjoy reading it. :)

_In hindsight, Merlin thought, he should have seen it coming. In fact he kept asking himself again and again why he had been so oblivious to the early signs, he, who praised himself on being observant and dedicated to detail. He, who managed to guide an agent through a mission watching several monitors at once, checking cameras for enemies, giving directions, all while still noticing that the staircase had been rigged with explosives. It was his job to be attentive, people relied on him. The life of the Kingsman agents depended on it. And their king deserved nothing less than that. Merlin’s partner deserved nothing less than that. The fact that they were one and the same person only doubled Merlin’s feeling of guilt. The additional fact that he had already lost him once and had only gotten him back by sheer luck tripled it.  
It hadn’t been his fault back then, no-one had seen it coming, apart maybe from their former Arthur in his betrayal, which they’d never know for sure. But Merlin still wished that he could have saved the man he loved from the pain he had to go through back then. He didn’t know if the current situation would be any different had he not missed the early onset of the reason why he was currently sitting beside a hospital bed. But the frighteningly familiar picture still caused a feeling of guilt. He knew though, all of this were idle thoughts now, and beating himself up wouldn’t help. This had never happened before after all. And now he’d never miss the warning signs again. _

-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°- 

“And you think that’s wise?” 

Merlin knew that his comment was provocative. Yet many of his comments were, because he liked to challenge people. And most of all, he liked to challenge Harry Hart. In the many years of their acquaintance, no matter how much their relationship had changed from the early beginnings in terms of intimacy, he had never met someone else who responded to his challenges as beautifully as Harry. He knew how to fight with words as elegantly as with a rapier or a Kingsman-issued brolly. His rhetoric was graceful and well structured, his arguments spot on, his humour as dry as his Martinis and he barely ever had to raise his voice to bring his point across. He was a worthy opponent and it had probably been during one of their arguments that Merlin had fallen in love with him so many years ago. Today though, it seemed, wasn’t a good day for a challenge.

“I bloody well do, yes,” came Harry’s reaction and he tossed his fountain pen onto his desk. It was an unusual reaction for a man who was usually as composed as a rock. Granted, it was still morning and they were sitting together for over two hours by now, planning and discussing an upcoming undercover mission regarding a drug smuggling ring in South London that required an intervention. But long meetings like this had often taken place in the past few months since Harry had become the new leader of Kingsman. He wanted to be involved, more involved than Chester King had ever been, but it was apparently taking its toll. Harry seemed tired. 

Merlin carefully cleared his throat before he said rather matter-of-factly: “Well, unless you want to risk the agent’s cover to blow spectacularly, I wouldn’t recommend this course of action.”

“I don’t think I asked for such a recommendation.” Harry’s hand went for his cup of tea that stood on the polished cherry wood desk, and a hint of surprise on his face was followed by a scowl when he lifted it and discovered that he must have emptied it already.

“Then consider it a strong advice,” Merlin continued unperturbed.

Harry ignored him completely though, talking more or less to himself: “What I _did_ ask for was another pot of tea.” He picked up the phone on the desk and used a speed dial number. Upon seeing who was calling someone must have picked up immediately, because Harry started speaking almost instantly and said rather shortly: “Yes, I ordered more tea. I’d in fact also love to drink it in the near future, thank you.”

Merlin frowned. He had seen Harry when he was tired. He had seen him when he was stressed. Heck, he’d been a witness when Harry had been about to die. Harry barely ever lost his calm. He wasn’t an impatient man, nor was he impolite. It was in fact a constant source of amusement for both of them during their sexual banter that Harry always added a ‘please’ or similar polite phrases to every intimate request or command of his. Merlin’s thoughts immediately rushed to the memory of their last time together just a couple of days ago, Harry under him all warm and pliant, his eyes closed and little pleas escaping his lips as Merlin slowly fucked him in their bed in the early hours of morning. And every single one of his pleas had been a perfectly worded demand to send him into sweet oblivion. ‘Deeper, Hamish, please’, 'Faster, love, if you’d be so kind’, ‘Would you mind if I put my legs around you?’ It was always incredibly quirky and intoxicating at the same time.

“Merlin? Shall we continue?”

Pulled out of his reverie, Merlin called himself to order and hoped that the arousal he felt would go unnoticed. He slightly lowered his clipboard a bit as a precaution in order to hide any physical evidence.

“Yes. Where were we?”

“You were about to tell me why you think that my opinion on this is shit.”

Merlin sighed pointedly and returned his attention to his notes. They continued to work on the mission outlines in a more or less tense mood until there was a timid knock on the door. 

“Come in,” Harry said absentmindedly as he flicked through the safety evaluation. 

The door opened and Merlin saw Paula coming into the room, one of the two young kitchen workers they had recently employed. She lived at the manor and had never been in Arthur’s study before. The lid of the teapot rattled slightly as she carefully carried the tray over to the desk. Merlin caught her eye and nodded to her with a friendly smile and she relaxed visibly.

“Apologies for the delay, Sir.”

“Accepted. Put it on the table please.” Harry still didn’t look at her as she exchanged the empty teapot with the full one and did the same with the creamer. When she replaced the tea strainer with an unused one, the small metallic saucer slipped out of her hand and hit the desk with a loud noise. Merlin saw Harry flinch, and Paula noticed it as well as she grabbed the offending item quickly and with another apology. Harry’s hand shot out to stop Paula before she could proceed by pouring the tea. 

“Just leave it and get out, I’ll do this myself.” 

Paula opened her mouth to defend herself reflexively, but the dismissal was clear and she was obviously clever enough not to get into a pointless argument as she just nodded and left the room as quickly as possible. She didn’t look at him but Merlin saw how daunted she was. The second the door clicked shut behind her, he addressed Harry who poured himself a cup of tea with a grim look on his face. 

“Did someone piss into your porridge this morning?”

“I’m merely thirsty,” said Harry.

“You’re merely annoying.”

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Harry put the tea pot down and looked at Merlin.

“Yes, namely that you’ve been acting like a total arse since you left the bed this morning. And then you lash out at an employee like that! She’s new and certainly not impressed by her boss right now.”

“I didn’t know you cared about our staff that much,” Harry shot back, but there was no heat behind his words this time. He sounded rather jaded.  
Harry sat back in his chair with a sigh, took off his glasses and forcefully set them on the table right in front of him while he tiredly rubbed at his good eye. Merlin knew that Harry wasn’t shy about the injury that had damaged his left eye beyond repair, yet he still rarely took the glasses off in the presence of others because he had noticed that it made some people uncomfortable. Merlin himself was intimately familiar with every scar on Harry’s body though and that included the nasty one his latest near-death experience had left on his handsome face. He watched his lover closely, who now massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger but remained silent. 

Merlin wouldn’t let up though: “Seriously, Harry, what is going on?”

It took a moment, but Harry looked up eventually. “It’s nothing. Didn’t sleep that well last night. More tea? Give me your cup.”

Merlin looked at Harry critically, but the man in question pretended not to be bothered by it and held out his hand, staring at Merlin with an inviting smile which was breathtakingly beautiful and totally fake. It was a honeypot mission smile if Merlin had ever seen one, and he had in fact seen quite of few of Harry’s so far. It only increased his worries. Still, he didn’t know how to address them with Harry being that evasive, so Merlin turned to the side table, took his empty cup and saucer, stood up and set it on the desk. He slowly pushed it towards Harry’s waiting hand until the tips of their fingers touched. Merlin stared down at their hands and slowly ran his index finger over Harry’s perfectly manicured nails. With a barely there touch he caressed the wrinkled skin of knuckles that had once suffered so much damage but were perfectly whole now. It often amazed him during these fleeting moments that he was still able to do these things, that the other man was still there, still breathing, still around to be touched, to be revered. Merlin prided himself on not being overly sentimental, but the immense gratitude he felt that the man he loved had been returned to him from what he had believed was certain death still made him choke up sometimes.  
The silent moment between them only lasted a few seconds, then Harry broke the spell by pulling the cup closer towards himself and started to fill it with the still steaming tea. 

“I will apologise to her later.”

Merlin couldn’t quite follow. “I’m sorry?” 

“Paula.”

Merlin noticed that Harry in fact did know his newest employee’s name and decided to drop the topic with an acknowledging nod. 

Harry carefully pushed the cup back towards Merlin - no sugar and a dash of milk, the way they both liked it - and went back to his papers. Merlin took the cup and set it back on the side table, making sure that the handle was on the right hand side. Steam rose up from the cup and twirled over the surface of the milky brown liquid. 

They kept on working for a while, discussing the backup and extraction plan. Merlin was busy calculating how many team members they’d need for the different shifts when he heard Harry swear loudly.

“For God’s sake, who put honey in this?”

Looking up he saw Harry staring at the cup in his hand as if the tea had insulted him personally. Merlin put the clipboard onto his lap. “What do you mean?”

Harry looked positively disgusted when he answered: “Honey. It tastes like honey.”

Merlin got his own cup and took a sip. It was Darjeeling, just like he expected. Nothing else. 

“Harry, there is no honey in this,” he said, turning to the man in question and trying to fight down the uneasiness that began to spread through his body. 

“Please, it even smells like it,” Harry replied curtly.

At that, Merlin was quite alarmed. He put his own cup back on the table immediately, set the clipboard aside and walked around Harry’s table quickly. They couldn’t be careful enough these days. Weird pranks, assassination attempts, if he had learnt one thing as a Kingsman, then that you had to be prepared for everything. 

Merlin took the cup out of Harry’s hands and sniffed it to check it out, but he couldn’t detect anything unusual. He went for a careful sip, let the tea run over his tongue before he swallowed it, then he took a larger sip. Tea. It was just tea. 

“Harry,” he began slowly and faced Harry who was looking up at him from his chair, “there is really no honey in this. Not even sugar. Nothing.”

“But…” began Harry, then stopped. His face fell, and it broke Merlin’s heart to see how the certainty Harry had felt was replaced by self-doubt and confusion as the man questioned his own senses. But he wasn’t Kingsman’s leader for nothing and regained his composure quickly.

“I apologise. I was distracted and I disregarded the tea’s natural flavour. It does have a sweet touch, doesn’t it, almost like honey. Quite nice. Anyway, we should continue.”

But Merlin wasn’t that easily convinced. “Harry, it’s the same tea we had before. And you hate honey.”

“Well, it is abhorrent, yes!” 

Merlin sighed at that retort. This was leading nowhere, and it hadn’t been his intention to upset Harry like that. But the other man’s reactions started to irritate him. So he closed his eyes for a second to regain his calm. A deep breath later he he opened them again and looked directly at Harry. He realised that anger would lead nowhere in this situation, and there had to be a reason for Harry’s behaviour. So he asked very softly: “Are you feeling alright? It’s not been that long since your recovery. It would be totally understandable if…” 

“How often do you want to bring that up?” interrupted Harry icily.

“For heaven’s sake, I’m merely trying to find out what’s wrong with you. You usually don’t react like a grumpy old man when I voice concerns about your health or when we tease each other. Especially not regarding such trivial things as honey.”

“Will you let it rest please!” Harry blurted out loudly and sharp like a command. 

Merlin was quite taken aback by his sudden outburst but he managed not to let it show as he stared at Harry’s face that was set with anger. He also wasn’t daunted by it at all. He respected authority. He didn’t respect childishness.  
“Very well, Arthur,” he said coldly, set the cup down and walked back to his chair. Harry didn’t look at him but stared at the papers on the desk in front of him, his shoulders tense and his hands clenched. Merlin picked up his clipboard and continued: “It’s probably time for a break. We can continue this later or even tomorrow. I’ll see you at the meeting with Galahad and Gawain at 3pm.”

Merlin walked to the door. Deep inside he knew that he should probably stay to talk this over but it didn’t seem to him as if this would lead to anything good at the moment. Despite being quite disgruntled he was also worried about Harry though, as something was definitely wrong, and that feeling wouldn’t ease up. So he stopped as he opened the door. He didn’t turn around and stared into the empty hallway that lay before him, but his voice was soft as he said: “Get some rest, my love.”  
He closed the door behind himself, letting out a heavy sigh. 

-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°- 

Merlin hoped that the afternoon meeting would go more smoothly, especially since they weren’t alone, but it seemed as if the whole day had been a write-off right from the start.

Galahad and Gawain were already waiting in HQ's table room when Merlin entered. Harry was nowhere in sight, but that wasn’t unusual. Despite promoting the image of the perfect gentleman whenever he found the time (Merlin was certain that Eggsy could write a book about this by now) he had never quite managed to add the virtue of timeliness to his agenda. That hadn’t changed after he had become Arthur. So while many of the older agents had grown accustomed to the image of their king sitting at the head of the table and graciously awaiting their arrival when they entered the room, the younger ones were used to their king entering a room already full of expectant agents, with the door closing behind him adding some sort of attention-demanding flourish. Both ways had their very own dramatic flair in Merlin’s opinion, and even if Harry denied vehemently that he did it on purpose, Merlin knew the man’s face far too well to believe it. So he nodded to Galahad and Gawain in their seats, walked to Arthur’s place at the end of the table and sat down in an extra chair to Arthur’s right that Harry had insisted upon, going through his notes. Surprisingly it only took a few minutes this time until the door opened again and Harry came in. Merlin looked up at him and was quite distressed to see that the break had apparently not helped much to improve Harry’s general condition. 

If anything, he looked worse than he had done earlier that day. An aura of exhaustion paired with moodiness surrounded him, his skin was pale, and when he walked around the desk he was holding himself rather stiffly. Merlin refrained from commenting, for one thing to avoid another argument, for another because they weren’t alone. But of course Eggsy didn’t have any problems with speaking his mind when Harry sat down.

“You look like shit, Harry.” 

The silence that followed was deafening. Gawain was diplomatic enough not even to look into Harry’s direction, but Eggsy was fearless, it seemed. His natural concern for the well-being of his mentor, though paired with an incessant inadequacy in choosing suitable expressions, overrode the rules of etiquette he was well aware of. In fact, he generally stretched these rules more often than others, and Harry usually took it in his stride, but today Merlin suspected it to backfire. Harry’s facial expressions in this very moment didn’t bode well. To Merlin’s surprise though, Harry held himself back and looked at Merlin instead. It was like a silent apology and a reminder at once, and Harry visibly pulled himself together, took a deep breath and turned back to Eggsy again.

“I assure you that I’m fine, Galahad. But thank you for your concern. I hope you used your observational skills quite as extensively on the mission you were about to give us a report on.”

Eggsy’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth opened in surprise before he pulled himself together and sat up straight, but he was clearly a bit flustered. Merlin had to admit that it was an amusing sight. 

“No. Yes. I mean, not like that. Uh, I better get started then.” He opened the file in front of him, invited everyone to activate their glasses and started his report. It went smoothly, but Merlin barely listened to it. His eyes were on Harry most of the time, who unconsciously rolled either his head from side to side or his shoulders up and down from time to time. After they discussed the results and how Gawain would be involved from there on, Harry dismissed the agents without further ado. As soon as the door closed behind them, Merlin could see Harry slump down in his chair.

He got up from his own chair and walked over to Harry until he stood right behind him. Wordlessly, he put his hands on Harry’s shoulders and started a light massage. It was difficult with the thick fabric of the suit, but he managed to work his way up to Harry’s neck and back down to his shoulder blades again. Harry alternated between heavy sighs and low groans while Merlin was working. When his hands got tired he put them on either side of Harry’s neck to let their warmth sink into the muscles and held them there while he just stood there, towering over Harry and staring at the closed door at the other side of the room.

“I apologise. For earlier. That was uncalled for,” Harry said after a while. His hands were playing with his fountain pen.

“It was, but I’ve been told that I can be quite annoying sometimes because I can’t let matters rest when I really should,” Merlin replied, happy that Harry finally started talking. 

“Well, to be honest…” Harry began with a slight chuckle, and Merlin cleared his throat loudly in jest.

“No,“ Harry continued, “it was simply not an adequate reaction. I’m sorry.”

Merlin acknowledged the apology by leaning down and placing a soft kiss on Harry’s still full head of hair. 

“What’s wrong with you then? You seem to be quite irritated, easily startled, and incredibly tense. And what was that about the tea?” 

Harry breathed in heavily. “I can’t even explain it. I’m feeling off somehow.” 

“Are you coming down with something?”

“Maybe. I hate to admit it, but I feel tired.” 

Merlin knew that this was indeed hard to admit for Harry, who always had a hard time dealing with personal shortcomings. His transition from active field agent to the leader of their organisation had not been easy for him since it had never been his personal aim to end up in this position. As a matter of fact, Valentine’s bullet had indeed ended his life in a way – Galahad and the world as he knew it had ceased to exist that day and Harry’s self-perception and his professional persona had to be rebuilt from scratch. Merlin supposed that it was still a work in progress. 

“You should probably go home,” he said softly. ”Get some rest. There’s nothing pressing going on at the moment and I’d keep you posted anyway. I’ll join you later.”

Harry didn’t answer but only nodded shortly. That he accepted his suggestion without an argument was yet another thing that heightened Merlin’s uneasiness, but he kept it to himself. Right now, Harry certainly didn’t need more words but more quiet time.

-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°- 

Harry left the mansion and the day remained thankfully uneventful, but Merlin was still busy in the tech apartment until early in the evening. When he finally made it home, all the lights in the house were out apart from the living room. Upon entering the room he found Harry sitting on the sofa, eyes closed, with his head resting on the back. The glasses had been exchanged for his eyepatch, and he had changed into more comfortable clothes and was wearing his favourite cardigan. Merlin had never told him that it was his favourite as well because the dark brown colour matched his eyes. There was soft classical music playing which Merlin identified as Schubert’s Serenade and happy memories washed over him. On an evening like this many years ago Harry had put it on after dinner and they had danced to it in this very room. It had been the first time Merlin had stayed the night. 

Merlin turned to leave the room again quietly in order not to disturb Harry, but the other man had sensed that someone else was in the room and raised his head, facing Merlin.

“Welcome home,” he said and tried to smile, but it remained a somewhat miserable attempt. 

“Thought you were asleep.”

“Couldn’t.”

“Have you eaten something?” Merlin inquired.

“Couldn’t.” 

“Harry.” Scolding his partner with the mere use of his name, Merlin sighed deeply. It seemed to him now as if both of them did that a lot lately.

The man in question gave him an offended look. “Don’t think I didn’t try. I wanted to make tea when I came home but when I opened the tin it was as if bees had built their home in there. It put me off quite thoroughly. And I just can’t seem to fall asleep. I’m feeling tired and wired at the same time.” 

Merlin frowned at the repeated mention of the non-existent honey, but food in general was a more pressing concern at that moment.

“You need to eat something, and even more importantly, you need to drink something, since I guess the tea this morning was the only thing you had.”

“I could do with some whisky.”

“And that’s about the last thing you’ll get!” Merlin snapped.

“I was joking. Though drinking myself into a stupor doesn’t sound like the worst idea right now.“

“I’m going to fix you something light, a sandwich maybe, and get you some water. Stay there.”

“Not moving an inch, Merlin, Sir!” Harry confirmed playfully and reached for the book on the coffee table.

Merlin went to the kitchen and switched the light on. A quick check of the fridge’s contents satisfied him, they still had everything he needed, and he opted for a chicken and cucumber sandwich. When he started working on it he didn’t hear any more music coming from the living-room and half-hoped that Harry had probably fallen asleep after all. But his hopes were not fulfilled when he suddenly heard the dull sound of a small object hitting the floor and then Harry’s voice, not panicked, but clearly expressing urgency: “Hamish. Hamish I need you here.”

Merlin didn’t think he’d ever reached the living-room faster. When he entered the room, Harry had gotten up from the sofa, the book lying at his feet on the floor. He was rubbing at his right eye.

“What is it? Harry, what happened?”

“Something’s not right. I can’t see clearly. It started just like that when I was reading.”

Merlin quickly walked over to Harry’s side and looked at him with a scrutinising gaze. “Describe it to me.”

“It all just got…quite blurry. Patchy. Bit greyish.” Harry blinked several times, and looked around the room and then at his outstretched hand. “It doesn’t stop.”

To Merlin, Harry was one of the most fearless men he ever met. He had seen him face ruthless enemies with the calmest expression imaginable. On missions he had walked through the fires of hell without a second thought. He had ignored warnings and threats, and defused bombs without uttering a single word of concern for his own life. But right now, in this very moment, Merlin saw that Harry looked scared. He guessed that a nearer-than-near-death experience like the one Harry had suffered probably did that to you. 

“Does it hurt? Are you in pain?”

“Just some odd pressure. Difficult to explain. A dull ache.”

“You had neither enough sleep nor food and fluids today. It's probably just a bad headache starting. Come one, let’s get you upstairs. Are you feeling dizzy?”

“No. It’s just hard to focus right now.”

Merlin took Harry by the arm and led him out of the room. There was no falter in his step, but Harry still walked somewhat stiffly and the muscles in his arm were tense. Merlin could practically feel the embarrassment radiating from him. He didn’t say anything though, knowing it would only upset Harry more, and that sort of agitation was the last thing he needed right now. 

They managed the stairs without problems, and Merlin led Harry right into the bathroom where he left him by the sink to fetch a glass of cool mineral water from downstairs which he put on the nightstand in the bedroom. He grabbed Harry’s pyjamas and returned to the bathroom. Harry had managed to brush his teeth in the meantime and was leaning on the sink and staring at himself in the mirror, the cleaned toothbrush still in his hand. After a moment of silent contemplation he looked up at Merlin's reflection in the mirror.

“Am I getting old, Hamish?”

“Yes,” was Merlin’s brutally honest answer, “but that is a biological fact. If you’re asking me if your current pitiful state is caused by your advanced age and if you’re hence automatically deemed unfit to even think about entering your office again, then the answer is no. You’re simply not well right now, for whatever reason, but it happens. Don’t forget that not too long ago, even though you’re sick of hearing it, you recovered from a disastrous head trauma. It’s a miracle that you bounced back to health as quickly as you did anyway.”

A tentative smile played at the corner of Harry’s lips. “You always know what to say to set me right, love.”

Merlin stepped closer to him, and leaning over Harry’s shoulder from behind he looked at their reflection in the mirror and said: “And every time I’m thankful that I still get to say it, mo ghràidh.” 

He pressed a careful kiss to Harry’s temple and straightened up. “I hope you’ll treasure this because this was me being about as soppy as I’m ever going to be on a Friday night.”

“What a pity I’m not wearing my glasses then,” Harry stated with regret and a meaningful smile, but that smile vanished quickly when he startled and squeezed his good eye shut. When he opened it again he looked quite miserable once more. “Flashes,” he stated rather dejectedly. “As if lights are flickering.”

“It’s high time you get some rest. Get changed and then off to bed with you.”

“Yes Sir,” Harry said mischievously. “To think that I’m the leader of an organisation that has more influence than our government…”

“Not in this house, you aren’t, and especially not while waving a toothbrush around,” stated Merlin dryly and left the bathroom quickly to let Harry change, and because he didn’t want that little shit to see him grinning to himself.

He stopped grinning soon after that though, because by the time Harry entered the bedroom – barefoot, wearing his grey pyjamas, and he had taken off his eyepatch – the man looked quite unwell.

“Harry?” Merlin had waited for him and was quite alarmed to see Harry staggering into the room. He met him halfway, took his arm and led him to the bed, where Harry sat down heavily, looking almost defeated. Merlin knelt down in front of him with a questioning look.

“It’s changed again. There’s this blind spot now, right in the middle, and it’s as if there’s a white halo around it. And I definitely feel a headache starting now.” He started massaging his temples. “This is highly inconvenient. I guess I’m ready to try that sleeping thing after all.”

Merlin nodded. “That’s probably for the best. And I know that you’re not feeling up to eating anything, but you should really drink some water before you go to sleep.” He took the glass and handed it over. Harry drank the water without a word of protest. Merlin set the empty glass aside and raised his hand to Harry’s face. He ran his thumb over Harry’s cheekbone and gently caressed the scar tissue on his left temple that was a testament of endurance and survival for him. Harry looked at him with a miserable expression, clearly in pain, but he leaned into the caress. They stayed like that for a while until Harry started to sway slightly. 

“Come on, under the covers with you.” Merlin stood up and gently pushed him sideways. Harry went willingly and lay down, curling up on his right side. Merlin pulled the blanket over him. “Try to sleep, it’ll help. I’ll join you shortly.” With one last look at the man who tried to bury his head in his pillow as if he wanted to distract himself from the odd sensations he experienced, Merlin switched off the light and left the room to go and lock up the house.

-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°- 

In his line of work, Merlin was used to getting little sleep and to sleeping at all times when the opportunity turned up. Over the years he had learnt to find sleep whenever and wherever possible and had trained himself to wake easily. Due to that, he woke up quickly when he felt the mattress move. Looking at the clock on the nightstand he noticed that it was barely 1am. Beside him, Harry was tossing and turning. 

“Harry? You awake?”

The answer he got wasn’t much more than a grunt but implied that Harry was indeed awake. Merlin sat up and switched the bedside lamp on. 

The sound that came from the other side of the bed was a groan now. 

“Harry, are you alright?” Merlin inquired.

“’s too bright. Switch it off. Please!” Harry almost begged. Merlin immediately dimmed the light by tapping the stand of the touch lamp two times so that the room remained only barely lit. Harry squeezed his good eye shut nonetheless and turned over.

“Did it get worse?” Merlin felt like the world’s biggest idiot the second the question was out of his mouth and of course Harry replied accordingly.

“What do you think?”

“I apologise, that was a stupid question. I had just hoped that sleep would help. Shall I get you some painkillers?”

“Yes please. My head is killing me.”

Merlin got up quickly and hurried to get water and pain meds from the bathroom. He went back to Harry who had pulled the pillow over his head. Merlin gently tugged on it until Harry emerged from under it, flinching while doing so.  
“Can you sit up?” asked Merlin. Harry nodded slightly and Merlin offered him a hand. With his help Harry was able to sit and accept the glass and the tablets Merlin held out for him. He swallowed the pills without a word and took a few sips of water.  
“Thank you.” He let himself sink back onto the bed slowly and with a pained sigh, closing his eyes and breathing heavily.

Merlin observed the process critically and sat down on the edge of the bed. Harry looked worse for wear and Merlin scolded himself for underestimating the situation as the man was clearly in a lot of pain. He automatically went for Harry’s wrist, pressing two fingers into soft flesh to check his pulse, and he found it elevated and slightly irregular.  
Harry opened his good eye again and regarded him silently. He tried to smile but failed as he mumbled: “I know you once trained to become a doctor, but as far as I remember the whole secret spy organisation tech thingie won, did it not?”

“I’ll have you know that I still know how to take a pulse, you bloody git. And I don’t like your heart rate very much right now.” There it was again, the constant worry that gnawed at him, caused by too many hours spent at the bedside of a comatose lover, barely subdued by every day’s duties and responsibilities. 

“Sorry about that,” muttered Harry as cheekily as he managed in his state, “my heart didn’t mean any offense.”

“Twit.” 

Shaking his head, Merlin reached up and laid his hand on Harry’s forehead to check for fever. He felt warm but not overly so, so Merlin let his hand gently brush through the tousled curls Harry usually styled into nonexistence. Harry shied away from it though with a wince, and Merlin understood that it was probably all too much right now and took his hand away.

“Oversensitive?”

“It all feels wrong. Too bright, too loud. Can’t explain it very well.”

“You don’t have to. I’m sorry that I misjudged this. I should have been more attentive. It’s definitely more than a headache, guess we’re talking about a migraine here. Let’s hope the meds will help.” Merlin felt the need to place a kiss of comfort on Harry’s lips but refrained from doing so because he didn’t want to cause him any pain. Instead he just pulled up Harry’s blanket and tucked him in. Harry didn’t utter a word. 

“Try to sleep. I’m right here if you need me.” Harry barely nodded and Merlin went over to his side of the bed again. He switched off the light and slipped under the blanket, not intending to sleep but just to rest to be available if needed. 

But it seemed as if his body had a different idea, and he fell into slumber. The next thing he abruptly became aware of was the sound of retching coming from the adjacent bathroom. Merlin had rarely ever run there as fast as he did now. The light was on, too bright even for his own eyes that were still adjusted to the darkness of the night, and hence certainly torture for Harry. The man in question was bent over the toilet, heaving heavily, but since he hadn’t eaten anything lately nothing came up but bile. Merlin switched on the small light over the sink and turned off the ceiling light. He quickly grabbed a towel and filled the glass on the sink with water before he knelt down beside Harry, careful not to touch him to cause him no discomfort. When the cramps eased and the man was done throwing up he looked up with an embarrassed blush. Merlin held out the items he had gathered for him.

“Here, rinse your mouth.”

“Thank you,” replied Harry in a low, hoarse voice and did as told. 

“I guess the pain didn’t get any better then,” Merlin assumed. “What time is it? Did the meds work at all? Or did you just bring them up again?” He was trying to decipher the small clock on the bathroom shelf on the wall but couldn’t in the low light.

“Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. Feels awful still. My head’s throbbing. And there’s this stabbing pain behind my…” he stopped and winced, visibly lost in a painful memory. When he continued, it was nothing more than a monotone whisper: “It’s as if someone’s shooting me in the face all over again.” 

Merlin inhaled sharply. Harry was shaking, pressing a hand to his left temple, and Merlin didn’t know what he could do to help. So he crouched down as far as he could and tilted Harry’s chin up gently with one finger until the other man had no chance but to look at him. “Listen to me, I know it’s bad, but you’re going to get through this. Don’t think of the past now. There’s only here and now, you’re here with me, and you’ll get better.” He carefully cupped Harry’s face with one hand and swept some loose and damp strands of hair out of Harry’s face with the other. Harry let it happen wordlessly, he just blinked and nodded shortly. “Come on then, let’s get you away from the cold floor and back to bed.”

Merlin got up from the ground and helped Harry stand up by hooking his arms under his and lifting him up. He kept an arm around him as they made their way back to the still dark bedroom as Harry swayed quite a bit, and he helped him lie down once more when they finally reached the bed. Just as Merlin started to turn away, he heard a rather subdued voice coming from the bed.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Merlin stopped in disbelief.

“I’m sorry that I’m a burden to you once again.”

Merlin sighed deeply. “Harry. We’re way past this discussion after all we’ve been through over the years. Don’t you ever apologise for being ill! I’ll blame you when you once again manage to break your Kingsman glasses by sitting on them. But never for something that neither you nor I nor anyone else has any control over. And by the way, this is not the first time I’ve hauled your scrawny arse back to bed, you bloody numpty, I’m used to it.”

His tirade was followed by a short pause, and then Harry whispered: “It’s a good thing you love me then.”

Merlin smiled, knowing that Harry couldn’t see that but hopefully hear it when he said fondly: “Yes. That I do.”

-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°- 

Merlin didn’t sleep anymore that night. He went to get an icepack from the freezer, wrapped it in a towel and brought it back to Harry, draping it over his head. He let fresh air into the room, got Harry more water which he didn’t drink because he was still nauseous beyond belief, and he shushed him when Harry whimpered because the pain was so excruciating. Keeping himself busy like that helped to distract himself from his worries and fears. The pain wouldn’t recede at all, it seemed. Harry compared it to a jackhammer pounding in his head. They tried another painkiller which didn’t do anything at all and Harry remained in restless agony. 

When the first light of morning filled the room, Merlin left the bedroom for a while to take a quick shower. He shaved and got dressed, and when he put on his glasses he was glad that they hid the dark circles under his eyes - at least a little. A tea and some toast in the kitchen came next. He had just eaten his meagre breakfast - not even bothering with sitting down for it - and was putting the dishes into the dishwater, when he heard something from upstairs. He quickly walked over to the stairs and then he heard it again.

“Ha…Hamish?” It sounded beyond desperate and Merlin bolted up the stairs and ran into the bedroom. Harry was still in bed just like he had left him, but he was awake and staring at him, his good eye wide open with fear.

“What is it, love?” said Merlin anxiously and knelt beside the bed, grabbing Harry’s right hand that had been searching for his frantically and held on for dear life now.

“Ca…can’t f…f…feel my f…ingers.”

“Where, on the left?”

“All n…numb ca…can’t move it.”

Merlin felt panic rise in his chest but tried to fight it down by concentrating on his questions. “Just the arm or anywhere else?”

Harry was visibly struggling for words. “All… left. Head to.. to… toes. Pins and nee…needles.”

Merlin was quite aware what these symptoms could mean. But he knew that he had to keep a clear head, and it was something that he had been trained to do. So he squeezed Harry’s hand as reassuringly as he was able to. “Alright, stay calm, just breathe, I’ll get help.”

He stood up and walked into the hallway where he activated his glasses with a few taps. It only took five seconds until he had a connection. 

“Customer service, how can I help you?”

"Merlin. Beta One One. Implementing Avalon protocol.”

The reaction was immediate. The protocol existed solely for one reason – to save the life of their king.

“Understood. Do you need an armed support team?”

“No, just medical assistance.”

“Located your position, emergency response team is alerted and on the way, ETA ten minutes. Transport via car to Hyde Park, med evac from there via helicopter. Patching you through to Morgan.”

There were a few seconds of silence that felt like an eternity to Merlin, and then the calming voice of Kingsman’s head physician was in Merlin’s ear, cutting right to the chase.

“Good morning. What’s Arthur’s condition?”

“He’s been suffering from what we thought was a bad migraine for over twelve hours. But now he’s become sort of dysphasic and his left side is paralysed.”

“Is he conscious and breathing?”

“Yes to both.”

“Keep him calm, watch his breathing, and call me if he’s worsening. We’re prepared and waiting for you.”

Merlin ended the call and went back to Harry, who was still awake but visibly frightened. Merlin did what he could to soothe him, he whispered to him softly and carded his fingers through his hair carefully and didn’t stop until the doorbell rang.

Everything went pretty fast after that and left Merlin no chance to give in to his own fear. Two men from their first response team came and lifted Harry onto a stretcher carefully, strapped him down and covered him with a blanket before they carried him down and into a plain black van. Merlin climbed in as well and held Harry’s hand for the short ride to Hyde Park, where the van stopped at the southern Rugby fields that were totally deserted at this time of the day. The helicopter arrived just minutes later and they transferred the stretcher at once. Harry still squeezed his eyes shut and groaned at the wind and the noise of the helicopter. Merlin couldn’t be at his side during the flight as the med assistant cared for him, checking his vitals and making sure that he was comfortable. 

Fortunately the trip was short and they descended directly into the Kingsman mansion’s underground hangar. They had barely touched ground when the rear door was opened and Merlin hurried to exit the helicopter and get there quickly. Morgan and a nurse were already there, and the doctor nodded at him while the assistant unloaded the stretcher. The wheeled legs under it unfolded and locked into place. Morgan bent over the stretcher to address Harry.

“Hello Arthur. If you wished to see me you could just have asked if we wanted to meet for tea, you know,” he said gently, and Merlin knew that his small talk was part assessment of his patient’s cognitive status.

Harry looked at him but it took him a few seconds to reply. “Du…duly no… no…. noted,” he stammered slowly. His face looked ashen and he swallowed hard.

They started moving immediately while the med assistant gave Morgan a short rundown: “BP steady around 100/60, heart rate 90, RR 20 and shallow…” 

Merlin followed them through the large hangar and noticed that it had been cleared of all personnel. He was thankful for it. Whether in history or in legend, you just didn’t bring a king home in a weakened state under the eyes of his subjects. It was bad for morale, no-one should doubt the strength of their leader. And while this certainly still applied even though times had changed, Merlin was even more relieved about the fact that Harry wouldn’t have to worry about people staring at him.

Apart from one, Merlin noticed, as they approached the entrance into the mansion’s basement. Above them, Eggsy Unwin stood at the observation window and looked down at them. He was impeccably dressed and stood still as a tree, his lips pressed into a thin line. Merlin didn’t know how he had found out about Harry’s condition or how he’d managed to sneak into that room unnoticed when no-one was supposed to be there, but the man was a spy after all. And he had an overprotective streak, especially when it came to Harry. Merlin never minded that. He appreciated having another pair of eyes looking out for their sometimes rambunctious leader. He nodded at him as they passed under his gaze, and Eggsy responded in kind. He knew than the young man was anxious for news and would turn up at the infirmary sooner or later.

Upon reaching the infirmary, Morgan gave several orders to his staff, but Merlin did not hear a thing he was saying. He stayed close to the wall of the exam room in order not to interfere with the proceedings, though his heart yearned to be closer to the man he loved and who was obviously terrified but trying not to show it. He blinked in the bright light of the infirmary room and groaned quietly.

While two nurses quickly undressed Harry, took his vitals and blood samples and started an IV line, Morgan addressed Merlin.

“What meds did he have?”

“Ibuprofen and paracetamol, 400 and 500 milligrams. Didn’t do anything though, and he also vomited.”

“When did this start?”

“The migraine yesterday. He was irritated all day, was smelling and tasting things that weren’t there. Visual problems followed, he became sensitive to light, and then the pain started. I didn’t know it would get that bad. If I had known… And then this morning he called out, said he couldn’t move his arm and leg and… Shit.“ Merlin stopped, squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose as guilt and anguish rushed through him. 

“Listen, I don’t have time now, but let me tell you, right now you’re not here as Kingsman’s second in command, you’re here as Harry’s partner, and of course this is affecting you as well. So sit down somewhere and let us take care of him now. You did everything right.” Morgan squeezed his shoulder briefly and then went back to his patient. 

Merlin watched him silently as he examined Harry with swift efficiency, listening to his heart and lungs and checking his pupil reaction as well as motor functions. He asked Harry to lift his arms, flex his hands and to press his feet against his hand one after the other, but Harry’s left side remained unresponsive. The doctor's expression was serious.

‘Don’t do this to me, Harry,’ Merlin thought in helpless desperation, ‘not again.’

They rushed Harry away for a CT scan next. Merlin knew how much the man hated that exam as he had more than enough of them over the years. Lying still in a confined space wasn’t his idea of fun. 

Merlin left the exam room and sank down on a chair at a table in the small waiting area outside. The concrete walls around him seemed to suffocate him as he rested his elbows on the table and buried his head in his hands. He didn’t know how long he sat there like that but when he opened his eyes again he realised that he must have fallen asleep for a while because his head now rested on his folded arms on the table. When he sat up in confusion, Eggsy sat opposite him, regarding him silently for a while before he said: “Hey. Didn’t have the heart to wake you, you looked as if you needed a nap.”

Merlin pushed his glasses back up his nose, suddenly wide awake. “Did I miss anything? Any news?”

“Yeah, in fact. I hope you were ok with them telling me, but I thought I could pass it on to you as soon as you woke up while they’re still busy.”

“That's alright. And I don’t even want to know how you heard about all this in the first place, son. Now out with it.”

A hint of a blush crept over Eggsy's face and he cleared his throat before he started to relay the information: “It’s mostly good news. It’s not a stroke. Morgan was really relieved, you know, said with Harry’s injuries from last year it was a high probability. But no clots, no bleeds, he said.”

“But?” prompted Merlin.

“They’re still testing him for infections and stuff. And tumours. Said they’re still waiting for the blood test results. And they’re doing a shitload of exams, MRI, EEG and a lumbar puncture.”

Merlin paled at the mention of all this. Eggsy's face was full of sympathy as he pushed a large mug over to him that Merlin hadn’t noticed before. “Here. Tea. Ordered some for you from the kitchen but it’s probably as cold as Scottish rain by now.”

Merlin snorted with indignation but took the cup anyway. The tea was luckily still lukewarm as he took a sip and it calmed him down tremendously. “Thank you,” he said to Eggsy. Together they waited in silent companionship.

-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°- 

Harry was sleeping peacefully for the first time since the whole ordeal had begun, and Merlin was sitting at his bedside, watching him sleep. It was frustrating to see him lying in a hospital bed again, flat on his back at that due to the lumbar puncture that had been performed earlier, but luckily he wasn’t hooked up to any serious life-support machines and monitoring devices. He had merely been placed on oxygen via a nasal cannula, but only as a supporting therapeutic measure, and an IV line was attached to his left arm, with two transparent bags that hung on the IV stand, delivering fluids and heavy painkillers that had finally given the exhausted man a chance to sleep.

In hindsight, Merlin thought, he should have seen it coming. In fact he kept asking himself again and again why he had been so oblivious to the early signs, he, who praised himself on being observant and dedicated to detail. He, who managed to guide an agent through a mission watching several monitors at once, checking cameras for enemies, giving directions, all while still noticing that the staircase had been rigged with explosives. It was his job to be attentive, people relied on him. The life of the Kingsman agents depended on it. And their king deserved nothing less than that. Merlin’s partner deserved nothing less than that. The fact that they were one and the same person only doubled Merlin’s feeling of guilt. The additional fact that he had already lost him once and had only gotten him back by sheer luck tripled it. It hadn’t been his fault back then, no-one had seen it coming, apart maybe from their former Arthur in his betrayal, which they’d never know for sure. But Merlin still wished that he could have saved the man he loved from the pain he had to go through back then. He didn’t know if the current situation would be any different had he not missed the early onset of the reason why he was currently sitting beside a hospital bed. But the frighteningly familiar picture still caused a feeling of guilt. He knew though, all of this were idle thoughts now, and beating himself up wouldn’t help. This had never happened before after all. And now he’d never miss the warning signs again.

His thoughts went back to when Morgan had come out of the exam room to discuss his findings with him. Eggsy had been called away some time before that to assist another agent, and as much as Merlin liked the younger man, he had been glad that he was alone to face the facts. Morgan had given him a detailed report.

“It has been difficult to diagnose due to the hemiparesis, but all tests proved negative for an either ischemic or haemorrhagic stroke, brain tumours or infectious diseases like meningitis. He only had a slightly elevated temperature and his vitals were off but still within acceptable ranges. We’ve ruled out vascular diseases and autoimmune disorders as well as seizures and epilepsy. With his history and with the symptoms he presented my diagnosis is a Sporadic Hemiplegic Migraine. It’s a rare condition which is mostly inherited but he did suffer some brain damage when he got shot and a head trauma like that can have all kinds of unpredictable long-term effects.”

Merlin had listened to the doctor with a mix of relief and concern. The situation could have been better, but it could have been so much worse as well.

“How is he now?”

“Asleep, due to a cocktail of narcotic analgesics, anti-nausea medication and a beta blocker. Not my preferred choice of treatment but the pain got so bad that there weren’t many options. I’m having him closely monitored for side effects but so far he’s responding well to the medication. The paralysis is only temporary and should lessen up soon. You can go and see him.”

Merlin had nodded, but there had been something else he needed to know first.

“Will it happen again?”

“Well,” Morgan had said with an apologetic expression on his face, “that is something I can’t say with certainty. It might have been a one-off. But in my medical opinion I’m afraid that it might be a recurrent event, if not a chronic condition. But it’s manageable, we know what we’re dealing with now. With the onset of the early symptoms we can already start the treatment and it shouldn’t become this bad again.”

Morgan’s words had been upsetting and reassuring at the same time. Merlin had thought about them since he had entered Harry’s room and sat down in a chair beside the hospital bed, which had evoked quite bitter memories. 

He sat there for several hours. Every hour a nurse came in to check the sleeping man’s vitals and didn’t miss to inform Merlin every single time that all was well. When she came for the fourth time, she carried a tray with two cups, a glass teapot and a sandwich.  
“For you,” she said with a kind smile, pointing to the sandwich, “you look as if you need it. And tea for you and Arthur. It’s only herbal tea though. I’ll put it on the tray table.” She vanished as quickly has she had come and Merlin barely had the time to turn around to thank her. When he turned back to the bed, Harry was looking at him, or sort of, as his good eye was barely open. And it was even more difficult for him to see something with him lying flat like that, so Merlin pulled his chair closer to the bed.

“Hello beautiful,” he said. Harry snorted tiredly at that. 

“You need to lie still for a while,” Merlin continued. “They practised their voodoo skills on you by sticking a needle into your spine in order to find a way to heal your headache and that might just give you yet another headache if you move around too much. Oh the irony.”

“Yeah I remember,” Harry mumbled languidly, but a tiny smile played around his lips. 

“How’s the pain?” Merlin inquired.

“Still there, but a lot less severe. Sort of... muted,” Harry answered slowly, and then utter relief flooded his features. “I can feel my fingers again. And my arm. Still tingles though.” Merlin watched Harry slowly lifting his left hand for a bit and wriggling his fingers. “So what’s the verdict?” Harry asked then, still sounding somewhat anxious. 

Merlin noticed that Harry was speaking normally again. All small improvements and encouraging signs. He had some colour back in his face and looked a lot less stricken than he had in the morning.

“Thankfully, it wasn’t a stroke, not even a small one, and that’s the most important thing. It seems though that you developed a rare and rather bad form of a migraine. One that includes partial paralysis. Once you’re better we need to discuss how we’re going to manage it if it happens again.”

He had barely said it when Harry's face fell. He angrily slapped the mattress with his right hand, or at least he tried to. In his weakened state it didn’t even made a sound, but Merlin got the point. The frustration on Harry’s face spoke volumes. The self-doubt he developed after V-Day always hit him the hardest when he was unwell. 

“I know you’re angry at yourself, but that doesn’t help. As I’ve told you dozens of times, this is not something you have any control over. It happens, and we’ll find a way to deal with it. That’s life. It doesn’t ask when or what. We know what to expect now if this happens again, and we can intervene a lot sooner. So the only thing that really counts is right here, right now. Right now you’re not suffering from a stroke, right now you’re already getting better. Your illness might feel like a setback, but it is not. It’s a bump in the road on the way forward. You are still strong, you are still a Kingsman. You are alive and I still get to kiss your stupid face in the morning. I so hope you’ll understand this one day.”

Harry regarded him wordlessly for a while. He looked far more alert now and also rather subdued by Merlin's words. 

“I hear you, Hamish. I know you’re right. Sometimes I think I’ve come to terms with all the changes, and then it all comes crashing back. I’ll try to remember your words then. But only if you stop with your guilt trips in return. They don’t do anyone any good either. You have always been and still are there for me and take care of me, and without you I’d have been lost so many times already, whether as an agent or as your partner or as your king. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Merlin swallowed hard. He saw that Harry had a tear in his eye and he didn’t fare much better himself. The stress of the last 30 or so hours seemed to be looking for an outlet quite desperately, he thought. Harry still held his gaze and it was as if they didn’t need any more words to convey their love and regard for each other.  
Eventually Merlin blinked a few times to get rid of the wetness in his eyes, cleared his throat and said: “Well, that was quite enough soppiness for a whole month, I think,” but he couldn’t help but smile as he got up and filled his cup with tea before he drank from it.

“This is weird,” Harry pondered, “do you know how long these sensory hallucinations will last?”

“What? Why? I thought those were over by now,” said Merlin with dismay.

Harry looked confused as well. “I thought so, too. But I think I'm smelling honey again.”

“Oh that,” said Merlin and grinned. “Don’t worry about it. I can even _taste_ honey.”

“Don’t tell me migraines have become infectious now,” Harry stated dryly.

“No,” said Merlin with a smirk. “But the nurse put honey in our tea.” He took another sip and leaned down, his lips still moist.  
“Remember to lie still, yes?” Merlin warned and gave Harry a rather wet kiss on the mouth.

Harry grimaced. “Ugh,” he said with disgust when Merlin pulled away with an evil grin. “Get away from me, you bald little imp, stop torturing an invalid!” he complained.

But his warm, fond smile betrayed his words thoroughly.

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely prompt I chose was "The beat-a-dead-horse-idea that Harry has a migraine and is totally incapacitated, but Merlin swoops in and takes care of him. The worse the migraine is, the better." As an h/c addict I immediately decided that I'd try to revive that horse. The trope's certainly a popular one in this fandom, but I'm still not tired of it myself and I hope there are people out there who enjoy this as well. :)
> 
> Come and visit me on tumblr: [Arlessiar](http://arlessiar.tumblr.com)


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